


Like a Rolling Stone

by KardKard



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Other, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:55:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23502715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KardKard/pseuds/KardKard
Summary: The world hasn't been playing in your favor. You've been a runaway since you were 16, because you were practically chased out by your homophobic parents. After a few years of sleeping on friends couches, you arrive at the age of 20, with not a single friend left that's willing to let you crash at their house anymore. Tired of your home town, you trek to Staten Island, New York. If you're gonna be without a home, you might as well live in the city. You get a job at a coffee shop, working your ass off day and night, just to leave work and sleep in the streets. Until one day, a new patron comes in, and offers you generosity completely unknown to you until now. Someone who hasn't overlooked you in this vast sea of life.This fic is written in second person, with no specific pronouns used for the reader. The reader is perceived to be bisexual, but other than that it's up to your interpretation.
Relationships: Brian "Q" Quinn/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Like a Rolling Stone

It's another 12 hour shift, and you're more than happy to take it. It's a pain in the ass to have to deal with days like this, but anything beats the cold. Everyone else seems to have the same idea, too, because the place is filled to the brim with all sorts of characters. First dates, business men on breaks, sleep-deprived studying college students, teenagers with nothing better to do, the usual caffeine addicts you see everyday, and everything in-between.   
One order after another, and your hands are working lightning fast. It's only been a couple months, but you've put in more hours than most of your co-workers have in a year. They want the money, you need it. You have everything memorized. A frappe, cappuccino, straight black, a latte; you name it. It's all a blur. It's cold out but you're sweating by now, and feeling a little dizzy at the lack of nutrients in you. Sure, your boss lets you have a cup a day, but that's nothing to fill up on. If anything, it makes it worse, but without it, you wouldn't be standing right now. It's not his fault, he only owes you a daily 30 min. lunch break, there's no meal that comes with it. It'd sure be nice if your co-worker had bothered to show up, then you wouldn't have to be running back and forth to the machine and the register. It's just you against the 10 pending orders, from customers with a range of patience.   
One of the customers, who's been waiting for a long 3 minutes, barks at you, "How long does it take for a fucking black coffee? It takes 5 fucking seconds to fill a cup." Okay one, it doesn't, and you know this. But two, you know better than to snap back, so you say,  
"I'm so sorry for the wait, sir, I'll have it right out". And you do. 

Day in and day out, it's all the same. You know you'll never have enough money to afford an apartment around here. You think back to everyone you knew in highschool. They're all off to college, working to become doctors or lawyers. Even the ones that aren't, at least their parents can stomach them enough to give them a couple more years at home. You wish you could say the same... You've got nobody now. Even your friends were sick of having you around. Nothing brings down the mood quite like having to ask "hey, can I stay at your house tonight?" For the fifth week in a row. Generosity can only go so far, and you can't blame them. It's not their job to take care of you, it was your parents, now it's your own. Life dealt you a bad hand, suck it up, get used to it. Others would argue that you're homeless because you aren't working hard enough for your money. You're considered to have a "low-skill" job. But yet you know in your heart you work your ass off, every day, so the very same business men and trust fund kids can have their favorite caffeinated beverage served to them with artificial kindness. So they can have enough energy to make calls from the comfort of their thousand dollar office chairs. Those same people would argue that you deserved to be run out of house and home by your family. You shouldn't have been attracted to the same sex as well as the opposite, you should've "followed god". Should've kept your mouth shut. It's your fault. Bisexuality is a disease, as far as anyone is concerned. The general consensus is that if you're poor, and you've got no place to go, that's on you. And you've accepted that. I suppose the customers spitting insults at you don't know that you sleep on park benches at night, but even if they did, it probably wouldn't matter much to them. If your boss found out, he'd probably just fire you, worried that someone would recognize the employee of his precious business as the bum they saw sleeping on the side of the road. It doesn't matter. You're on your own. No one else is around to care, so why should you? If you'll never afford a place to live, might as well spend your paycheck on your vices. A joint here and there, and you can always ask people to buy you alcohol if you pitch in a couple bucks for them too. Though, you gotta be prepared for the ones that take the money and run. A motel room once a week, if only for the shower, the bed is a bonus too. The hat that goes with your uniform tends to cover up any grease in your hair, luckily. Laundry once a week, maybe, if you're lucky. Day in and day out. Rinse and repeat. 

As the day turns to night, the crowd disperses. Only a couple people left, sipping their coffee, typing away on their laptops, scrolling on their phones. Your shop is open longer than most other independent shops around here. 5am-midnight. And it's not too uncommon for you to work the full day, might as well. But not today, you can "enjoy" a few hours of sleep. Somewhere. You still don't know where today. You don't get paid til next week, so there's no chance you'll rent a room at a motel for the night.  
Just a few minutes before closing, as you're sweeping the last bits off dust off the floor behind the counter, the bell on the door rings. A new customer. You groan, you just fixed everything up for the day. Service with a smile, I guess. You turn to face said customer, and muster a smile. He's a bit older, with long, grayish brown hair, with a beard to match. Fully decked out in his winter wear, with an American flag scarf to add some color. You gotta admit, older guys aren't usually your cup of tea, but something about him is... Extremely appealing. You have no choice but to let your lips flow into a smile naturally, you can't help it.   
"How can I help you?" You ask, a little cheerfully, despite the malnutrition and lack of sleep weighing you down...  
"Just a straight black coffee, please" he said, in a loud accent local to here, unlike your own.   
"Surely, I'll have it ready in just a sec" you replied. You drag your way over to the machine, repeating the usual process. Your hands are going numb, you're starving, 'just make it til the end of the night, then you can pass out,' you think to yourself.   
Before you've finished the task, that would be easy under normal, not-so-malnourished circumstances, he calls out from the other side of the counter, "how long are they making you work? You look exausted". You spin around, finished drink in hand, a little suddenly. Too suddenly. You get dizzy and your vision goes black. You use your free hand to catch yourself on the counter.   
"Haha," you laugh, and look up to see him a little bewildered, "well, today I got lucky. Only 12 hours."  
"Damn, I can tell. They need to go easier on you. You need a day off, man. Do you accept tips?"  
"Ah no," not since that one dude ran in, took the tip jar, and ran out, at least. "Your total will be $4.48." He hands you a $100 bill. You take it, "alright, $95.52 is your change".   
You go to hand it to him, but he says "no, keep the change. YOU keep the change. You deserve it, I won't tell anybody." Your eyes widen, you're a little bit at a loss of words. You know you shouldn't accept it, when there was tips, they all went to the owner, but you muster out a, "T-... Thank you so much". You're in no place to be denying money, especially this much.   
"No problem, take it easy. See you around." He says as he's walking out the door. You stand there in stunned silence. You've worked here so much, and you've never received a tip. Even to those kind enough to tip when there was a tip jar, it was never anywhere near this much. Maybe a dollar, the rare $5. In fact, you can't remember the last time anybody has extended any kind of generosity towards you. This changes your whole night, hell, your whole week. Maybe 2 weeks. Maybe you can afford that motel room. You're grinning from ear to ear, the universe has decided to deal you something good. You check to make sure there's no customers left, there isn't, and you do a little jump of glee.  
Little did you know, this treat from the universe wasn't just a one time blessing.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic in this fandom. Let me know if I did any good, I haven't written in forever. Any little comment is appreciated, maybe your comment will be my little gift from the universe today. And sidenote, do you think Q is a black coffee kinda guy? He strikes me as one. Chapter 2 will be coming very soon!


End file.
